


On Love

by anastiel



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Erotic Poetry, Falling In Love, Love Poems, M/M, Multi, Pining, Poems, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 20:36:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17567540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel
Summary: A collection of poems written in notebooks on lazy Saturdays, on wine-stained napkins while tipsy in Rome, and throughout the years of falling in love with a best friend.





	On Love

**_Fall 2008_ **

A swirled white column of steam rises from Misha’s mug, the liquid inside a light brown. The tea is still steeping, but the freshly boiled water is already working it’s magic. He sits down in the chair nearest to it, facing the patio doors and the newly risen sun. Palm trees rustle in the slight breeze outside his window, the hills cresting off in the distance and above them clear blue sky. He rests a notebook and ballpoint pen down on the table, and scoots the mug closer so it’s within reach. Perfect. Early morning journaling has been a routine therapeutic start to his weekends for the past few years. Writing always help him work out everything going on his mind, whatever is bothering him at the time, work out feelings, tell the ones he loves things that he can’t seem to express verbally. 

So much has happened recently, what with his new role on Supernatural, that has brought many changes into his life. He’s gone more often from L.A. and for the first time feels completely comfortable in a cast that the longer time goes on starts to feel like an extension of his own family. He’s probably speaking too soon, it’s only been three months, but something about this feels right. 

Misha flips open his notebook, clicks his pen, and stares down at the page. He knows what he wants to write about, or rather  _ who  _ but he’s not sure where to start. It’s complicated and intoxicating, as everything with Jensen seems to be.

Misha has never had such instant chemistry with another man before. He remembers the moment they met on set, and Jensen shook his hand with a blindingly perfect smile, slight southern accent, and a firm hand. It was quite literally electric, at least from his perspective. 

He can’t stop thinking about it since and the more he gets to know Jensen the worse it gets. 

Hence, why he’s here on a sunny Saturday morning with a notebook and his favorite tea to try and get whatever this  _ is  _ out. 

He puts his pen to paper and starts writing out a series of words.

_ Jade _

_ Emerald _

_ Fern _

_ Shamrock  _

Misha stares at them, contemplates and crosses a few out. 

~~_ Jade _ ~~

~~_ Emerald _ ~~

_~~Shamrock~~ _

_ Fern _

Misha lips curve up into a slight smile on his face.  _ Perfect. _ He takes a sip of tea and starts writing. 

* * *

 

A half-hour and a dozen crumpled up pages later, he hears the pad of footsteps on the hardwood floor coming into the kitchen.

“Morning,” Vicki says. She crosses to him, and leans down to kiss him, dragging a gentle hand through his hair. 

“Morning,” Misha replies, smiling up at her. “There’s coffee in the pot for you.”

“Mmmm, love you,” Vicki replies, all smiles and gentle fingers as she cups his cheeks, giving him a lingering kiss in thanks.

“Love you,” Misha says back, watching her retreating form as she heads into the kitchen. 

He focuses back in on the now empty page in front of him with the word  **Fern,** emboldened at the top, and sighs. 

He looks up again at the slight scrape of a chair moving and Vicki settling in across from him, grinning at him over the rim of her mug of coffee. 

“What are writing about today?” 

“Work, technically,” Misha replies. 

“So Jensen, huh?” Vicki asks, and when Misha looks up at her, she’s smiling in that all-knowing way of hers. 

Misha rolls his eyes, but feels a smile work its way onto his mouth, “What can I say he fascinates me.”

“That all?”

“Well,” Misha starts, drawing out the word, “It does helps that he’s gorgeous too.”

“Why haven’t you asked him out yet?” Vicki asks, as if it’s obvious, as if that’s exactly what he should have done like  _ months  _ ago. Which, despite the fact that Jensen mentioned Danneel literally the first day they met, wouldn’t have been such a terrible idea. 

“He has a girlfriend.”

Vicki raises an eyebrow, and gestures between the two of them and darts her eyes pointedly to where her book is sitting proudly displayed on their bookshelf. 

Misha sighs, “Okay, but not everyone is us.”

“You never know until you ask. I’ve seen how you both act around each other, Mish and it’s intense. I’ve never seen you work so well with someone outside of myself, even the other partners we’ve had.”

“Really?” Misha asks. 

Vicki nods, and there’s something serious in her tone when she replies, “I know you’re still processing the way everything has changed in the past few months, but think about it. You know you have my full permission.”

“I know, I love you so much.” Misha reaches across the table to take her hand where it’s rested on the tabletop. 

“I know,” Vicki says, grinning, and then gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “Keep writing, I’m going to read for a bit.”

He nods in response, heart feeling full of love for her and so incredibly lucky to have her at his side through the craziness of life. 

Misha stares down at the few words sprinkled across his page, and instantly gets a vivid image of Jensen from yesterday. He’d suddenly started laughing at something Misha said, something dumb, but the effect was instantaneous. Jensen doubled over, eyes crinkling and grinning while he laughed, looking simultaneously so adorable and sexy that it was unfair. 

The melodious sound of his laugh, and how his eyes seemed to twinkle right afterward are imprinted into Misha’s mind. Misha picks up his pen again, presses the tip down against the lined paper, and starts writing. 

  
  


**_Bloom_ **

_ Scientists say ferns flourish first after a fire. _

_ I know this well having felt the southern California blaze of your hand, _

_ but beneath the simmering,  _

_ a new green sprouts in your eyes,  _

_ holding the bud of chance  _

_ for something to bloom between us.  _

_ — M _

**Author's Note:**

> This is something sort of experimental I've decided to try out. Let me know what y'all think. I haven't set a posting schedule but once I figure out where I'm going I will. 
> 
> You can also find me on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/anastiels)


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